Hellfire
by Keiran
Summary: In the face of increasingly strange events, detective Heero Yuy takes a recent arrest's advice and finds a 'Maxwell'. Where he'll go from there, he doesn't yet know, but it seems like he's on a oneway street to get there. 1x2x1
1. Hollywood Has a Point

Author: Keiran  
Title: Hellfire 1/8  
Rating: 14  
Genre: Supernatural  
Pairings: 1+2+1, hints of others

Warnings: mildly religious stuff.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following is strictly for entertainment purposes.  
Archive: Gundam Wing Diaries. For the record, I have an "Ask and you shall receive" policy.

Notes: This is a fusion with the movie Constantine. Doesn't follow it closely, or at all really.

Thanks to the Amazing Shenlong Deb, for betaing!

xxx.XXX.xxx

"Fuck off."

"Mr Maxwell, I'm just asking for a minute of your time." A very official looking badge shone briefly in the crack of the door.

"Oh, I'm sorry, officer. I was being rude." The door opened a notch. Heero opened his mouth and breathed in. "Fuck off, _detective_." The door slammed shut. Heero's hand fell to his side. He could see this one was not going to be easy.

Then again, he always got the tough ones. The door only lasted for two kicks anyway – it's not like Maxwell was really trying to keep people out. "Sorry, sir. It will only take a minute."

Without the barrier of the door the reluctant host looked almost frail. Heero blinked in surprise. He knew for a fact that the man was well into his twenties, close to thirty in fact, but he was willing to bet he still needed his licence whenever he wanted a beer.

"Is this the new policy? Break the door down? Am I a suspect? Cause I don't recall being read my rights. Get the fuck out, before I call the real cops." If Heero was to judge his age by the sneer on his face, he'd have to consider hundreds as an option.

"I am a real cop," he said, showing his badge again. "I just need to ask a couple of questions." He wouldn't have come, he knew he shouldn't have. But several of the most recent arrests ended up weird, beyond weird. One of them mentioned the name "Maxwell".

"She's blaming you," Maxwell said quietly, his face losing the hostile expression. "You don't need me to tell you that. She's not hostile though, she just doesn't want you to forget."

"What?" Heero stepped back, despite himself. It struck a cord, as much as he hated the idea.

"Oh? Is that not why you came here?"

"Who's blaming me? I don't recall any of my friends mentioning you," he asked, a tad stiffly.

"You wouldn't." A bitter smile twisted Maxwell's lips, before he looked the police officer in the eye again. "A girl, maybe eight – or six. I'm not quite sure. White dress with ruffles. Reddish hair, brown eyes, butterfly hairpins." Heero pressed his back against the closed door. Maxwell looked at him humourlessly. His eyes were impossibly violet. "Hostage situation, huh? Can't say I blame you. The need of the many and other shit." He ignored the shock in the cop's eyes and went on. "I'm afraid I can't help you with that. She seems a neutral spirit, a protective one even. Sorry. Learn to live with it."

A gun was cocked.

"What the fuck are you saying?" Heero asked very quietly, his pistol pointing straight between the creepy violet eyes. "Just what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Isn't that why you came, detective?" Honest surprise. "My apologies. What is it then, I have an outstanding ticket?" The gun didn't waiver. If there was one thing Heero truly knew, it was how to keep his motor functions separate from his mind's state. "I see. I apologise. I got one too many visits from grieving relatives. I got testy. What was it that you wanted?"

"I…" He hardly knew anymore. He'd come here to get information, a link. When the name was spoken aloud, he knew he'd heard others murmur it before, others he'd met in very unusual situations. He would speculate that it might have been those violet eyes rendering the man so memorable, but obviously there was more.

He holstered the gun. "I need information."

"Boy, am I surprised." Heero found the eye-roll oddly endearing.

"We've had odd cases recently. People disappearing from their cells, autopsies revealing fresh corpses to be months dead. One of the inmates mentioned your name. His name was – Sebastian Moore. He went by 'Solo' though," the officer added as an afterthought.

Maxwell looked at him speculatively. "Solo mentioned me? Well, fuck." He ruffled his bangs. Heero was surprised to notice the coppery braid swinging behind his back. "Come on in then. Have a seat. Helping police, I didn't think I could fall quite this low."

"No offence, but your apartment does not resemble a den of the underworld."

"I should hope not. Sulphur really isn't my thing."

"What?"

"Solo mentioned my name and yet you know nothing. Fuck the bastard." Again with that measuring stare. "He really must have a grudge against you, to send you to me."

"I put him away."

"Whatever. Crash course then." He hesitated briefly. "Are there any strong religious feelings I should be worried about offending?" Receiving a denial, he nodded. "Good. I'll just rape your logic then."

"You've no religion to speak of, but Hollywood fills in the gap. There is a Heaven and a Hell. And then there's us, smack in the middle. There is some bullshit about rules and maintaining a balance, but it's just to cover up the notion that those from Above cannot Descend without possessing a physical form, and similarly those Below cannot Rise."

"They would want to do it; why?" Maxwell grinned evilly.

"Our souls."

"Che'. I don't believe in some spooks from the afterlife going after my soul."

"This would be a good moment to start then."

"Look, I don't really have time for this," Heero said irritably. "I've asked for answers and you're feeding me fairy tales."

"You asked. I'm providing a background to the answer." As many people (though not Heero personally, for obvious reasons) could attest, the blue glare was disturbing. The violet one, however, gave it a run for its money. "The crucial thing would be to understand that they are largely not supposed to be here. They are allowed little things, temptations, influences and such. Sometimes they forget their place. I've been bestowed with the dubious honour of being in charge of sending them back."

"And you want me to believe it." Years of schooling and training took over. "You want me to believe that murders, thefts, rapes and every other shit is the devil's fault?"

"I did not say that. Not once," Maxwell countered coldly. "We are fucked up creatures, that's what we are. But you came asking about weird disappearances, eyes glowing in the dark and one-eighty personality turns."

"Oh, so that's to blame on the devil?"

"Angels, demons. Yeah, pretty much."

"Is there more, or am I up to date with blockbusters then?"

Heero watched Maxwell dig through some cabinets and produce a candle, a small jar and a piece of chalk. "I have no idea why Solo sent you to me, other than you being enough of a dickhead to aggravate me. He might've had a reason, so I am going to make an effort." His fingers danced the chalk across the table, forming a circle with a series of symbols around it. "This is widely known as Hellfire," he said, extending his palm flat above the circle. He eyes closed, his mouth formed words. What words exactly, it was hard to tell.

Heero felt an eye-roll coming on. What now – magic tricks?

Then he remembered the disappearances, the unexplainable glow in Moore's eyes and finally the greeting he received... and promptly squashed the instinctive response. At this point, he was all too willing to believe.

When the circle erupted in crimson flames, he felt something click, deep inside his head. His mouth opened a little as he watched the black edge between a flame and air.

He'd seen this edge before.

**TBC.**


	2. Fear the Pea Soup

Author: Keiran  
Title: Hellfire 2/8  
Rating: 14  
Genre: Supernatural  
Pairings: 1+2+1, hints of others  
Warnings: mildly religious stuff.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following is strictly for entertainment purposes.  
Archive: Gundam Wing Diaries. For the record, I have an "Ask and you shall receive" policy.  
Notes: This is a fusion with the movie Constantine. Doesn't follow it closely, or at all really.

Thanks to the Amazing Shenlong Deb, for betaing!

xxx.XXX.xxx

Heero watched the flames, fascinated and horrified. The only occasion he could have seen flames and have confusing memories about it, was that one night twenty years ago… How he hated remembering that night.

The spectacle lasted only for several seconds, before Maxwell scooped up some of the flames into the jar and screwed the lid on tightly. He presented the final product to Heero.

"It's not harmful to us, but do keep it in a safe place." The detective took the jar carefully – it wasn't warm. He watched the flames flicker. A memory stirred, but before it could take shape a phone rang. "Excuse me."

The conversation was brief. Heero only managed to catch several curses, before the call was disconnected and Maxwell appeared back in the room.

"Terribly sorry to cut this lovely chat short, but I've got to go."

"You haven't told me anything yet!"

"It's better this way, officer. Trust me, you really don't want to know."

"I'm not a child. You will not be telling me what I want and don't want to know, Mr Maxwell."

"Asshole. But have it your way. Come with me – if you manage to keep the contents of your stomach in, I solemnly swear I will answer every question you might have. In detail."

Heero eyed him suspiciously, but the deal seemed harmless enough. At worst, he'll puke his guts out. "Alright," he said confidently. The violet-eyed man gave him an amused look.

"So sure of yourself. We'll see." Maxwell obviously never quite got over his teen goth phase. He threw a black leather coat on top his black shirt, straightened his black slacks and picked up a black knapsack. "We're off then."

"So what is it you're doing today?" Heero asked as they strode through a busy street.

"An ugly case of possession. The girl is about sixteen and she's terminally ill. She'll die tonight – I'm going there to make sure she does so in peace."

"Fascinating job."

"You have no idea."

They kept walking in silence.

"Where are we going now?"

"I assume you have no transport, officer?"

"No."

"Then we're going to fetch my bike."

"An exorcist on a bike, now that's something I haven't seen before."

"How many exorcists have you seen?" Heero didn't reply. Maxwell grinned. "I thought as much. There's the place," he added pointing to a run-down garage. It was a weird little place, somewhat out of place in the company of tall buildings.

"Here again, kid? Who's your escort?" An elderly man in sunglasses walked in their direction, spreading oil and smear evenly over his hands with the aid of a rag.

"Am I ever wondering," Maxwell replied. "He's a cop. Sent by Solo, apparently to learn the trade. This is Howard," he said to Heero, pointing at the other man. "Possibly the weirdest case of possession I have seen in my life."

"Which, all things considered, ain't so impressive, kid. You're what, thirty?"

"Twenty eight. Is my bike ready?"

"Ain't it always?"

"Thanks, Howard." The kid waved his hand and made his way further into the garage, to a room obviously not for general use. His fingers traced the wall upon entering, flipping the light switch. The officer stared.

It took maybe three seconds, altogether, for Heero to fall in love in the smooth, black curves and profiled planes.

"She's a beauty, isn't she?" Maxwell said proudly, running a hand down the handlebars of his bike. Heero nodded mutely, admiring the picture. She was obviously made to breach the barrier of sound. "Grab a helmet and we're ready to go."

The policeman did his best to ignore the speed at which they travelled the busy streets. He knew that if he actually started paying attention for more than five seconds, he might be forced to find the ticket book. His unfortunate companion did not seem to be perturbed by the amount of meters rolling by their wheels every second. If anything, he was exhilarated by the rush – Heero could feel the chest underneath his hands vibrating with silent laughter. He personally saw nothing funny in it. Weren't motorcyclists body parts donors, just waiting for an opportunity to save someone's life, after all?

The address they were going to was the least conspicuous place anyone could imagine. An average town, in the middle of an average suburb, with an average lawn and an average picket fence. Sure, Heero could recall several equally average body bags in similar places, but that just wasn't the point. This kind of place oozed calm and normality.

Except when you watched the kid, aged twenty eight, saunter to a door, a meter-long braid trailing in his wake, and a bike from Hell (one that Heero was ready to hijack) on the sidewalk. He shook the notion from his head and hurried after the man, a heavy bag in hand.

"Good afternoon," Maxwell said amiably, once the door opened to a gentle knock. "My name's David Maxwell." The man standing in the doorway was weary. And wary.

"You're David Maxwell?" Heero watched from the corner of his eye as the violet eyes rose upwards and back to the disbelieving host. Apparently, the dog collar he was wearing enabled him to mistrust his fellow man to his heart's content.

"Here we go again. Here's my driving licence." The priest examined the piece of plastic thoughtfully.

"You don't look your age."

"I weep for the fact, believe me."

"I'm sorry, it's a stressful time. That poor girl…"

"I understand. Let me see her, please."

The man nodded, several times. "Yes, of course. It's just – the family is in the house now. They're very religious people. Very religious."

"It's alright," Maxwell said with a heavy sigh. He buttoned up his black shirt and fished around in his coat's pockets. To Heero's utter astonishment, he produced a dog collar and with practiced ease tucked it onto his neck.

"What about him?" the priest nodded to the detective.

"He's my driver," the violet-eyed man replied with a sunny beam.

Finally, they were admitted inside. It was obvious that there was something not quite right going on. Heero could feel the tension, even before they met the family. Maxwell's shoulders, as he noted from the corner of his eye, were hunched. He was shivering.

"Upstairs," the elderly priest pointed.

"Father Brutha!" A middle aged woman walked down stairs, taking the steps one at a time.

"Forgive me, Madeline. This is Father Maxwell. I told you about him."

"Oh. You seem very young," she said politely.

"I'm older than I look, ma'am," Father Maxwell said kindly. "May I see your niece?"

"Oh." She covered her surprise with a burst of quick logic. Summoned, obviously, with some effort. "Father Brutha must've told you. Come along."

"Niece?" Heero leaned and hissed in his companion's ear.

"Long story. Keep your cool, and you might hear it."

"Ah."

Like with the atmosphere in the house, it didn't take a genius to figure out something was wrong with the girl. The room was bathed in sunlight, as much as the windows would allow. The golden glow shone on the crucifixes, there were bibles littering the bookcases, rosaries and prayer books. The girl, lying on a bed in the middle of it all, was pale, her face taut and grey. Her eyes opened nevertheless, revealing bright hazel irises, which seemed gold when the light hit them just right.

"Please leave us alone," Maxwell said strongly. It said something for the power of his voice that a woman such as Madeline took his request without a word. Heero was willing to bet she wouldn't accept a plate of soup without arguing about its contents and/or pattern. Father Brutha closed the doors behind the two of them. "There's incense in the bag, light a stick," Maxwell instructed, closing the windows tightly. "Watch out, it burns strongly," he added, seconds after Heero just managed to rescue his eyebrows.

"Thank you." But the exorcist was already busy lighting candles and arranging them around the bed.

"You…" the girl whispered suddenly, her eyes gleaming yellow.

"Me indeed," the long-haired man said, standing at her side. "A pity you can't stay, I'd love to chat. Heero, stand against the wall. Do not step beyond the candles, whatever happens."

"Should I expect fountains of pea-soup?"

"No. Demon spit. It tends to be worse, in general. Unless we're talking Manny's. Nothing is worse than his pea-soup."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"It'll serve you well." The smile disappeared from his face. "_In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti_…"

And the calm gave way to a storm.

**TBC.**

Whoever knows where Father Brutha comes from, deserves a cookie. ;)


	3. The WhiteCollar Job

Author: Keiran  
Title: Hellfire 3/8  
Rating: 14  
Genre: Supernatural  
Pairings: 1+2+1, hints of others  
Warnings: mildly religious stuff.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following is strictly for entertainment purposes.  
Archive: Gundam Wing Diaries. For the record, I have an "Ask and you shall receive" policy.  
Notes: This is a fusion with the movie Constantine. Doesn't follow it closely, or at all really.

Thanks to the Amazing Shenlong Deb, for betaing!

A heartfelt thank you to all of you who are reading and reviewing this story! You all deserve a choc-chip-cookie, with a side dish of ice cream. Make that two cookies for all of you who guessed that Father Brutha is a creation of Terry Pratchett, first appearing in _Small Gods_.

xxx.XXX.xxx

The girl screamed. Heero watched with copious amount of trepidation as her body shook in ways that he just knew couldn't be natural. In all the chaos it seemed safer to look at Maxwell, who seemed completely unmoved by the screams and moving objects. The man's eyes were closed, one of his hands resting against the girl's forehead, while his mouth formed words Heero couldn't even begin to comprehend. If he looked close enough though, he could see the strain of effort appear on the exorcist's face.

The obvious conclusion, once he accepted that there was indeed such a thing as possessions and demons, would be that the thing inside the girl was putting up one hell of a fight. And somehow, it didn't look to Heero like Maxwell was winning. Still, he could have been wrong, this being the first session he'd witnessed, out of a movie.

Several minutes after the theatre started, the long-haired exorcist stopped chanting and looked at the grotesque face.

"Show yourself," he said quietly. Heero shivered. It was the sort of quiet voice that makes a roomful of unruly drunks shut up and stand to attention.

Apparently, the creature in the girl felt the same way. Maxwell stood back and Heero finally understood just why the conditions of the deal were what they were. Something was shifting under the girl's skin, something which closely resembled greyish slime, streaked with black. It poured out, whirling over the body which suddenly fell back, lifelessly.

"Samyaza. What a surprise," Maxwell said coolly.

"Getttt out, litttttttle boy," the entity hissed with obvious difficulty. He was gaining a shape, slowly but surely, and the shape, Heero noticed with surprise, was of a handsome young man. Haughty beyond belief, but handsome.

"I'm rather surprised to find you here, in such an unremarkable little girl. Scratch that, I'm astonished to find you possessing a girl, period." It took guts, Heero reflected, to look something as shapeless as a half-formed man in the eye and still sound like an ice tea commercial. The being shifted in the air and leaned towards the exorcist's face.

"You cannnnot stoppp us alllll, littttle boy. Soon He willlll be readddy, and Himmm you cannnnot stop!"

"I can stop you, bitch." Heero never noticed the movement, so focused was he on the demon, but suddenly Maxwell was holding a gun to the thing's forehead.

The bullet hit the wall, spraying the bed below with dust. The girl inhaled sharply and whimpered.

"It's alright now," Maxwell said gently, stroking her face. "You have nothing to fear anymore." She smiled weakly and nodded. "Sleep."

Heero watched in stunned silence as the man walked around the room, collecting the candles. He left the incense burning, but removed the bullet wedged in the wall. So it was true, that you could get used to anything, he thought, wondering how long would it take him. Shouldn't take horribly long, he was a tough person, but… It was only when Maxwell approached and kneeled to look him in the eye that he realised he'd slid down the wall during the proceedings.

"I'm impressed, detective. You didn't throw up after all. If you wish you had though, I'm sure these nice people have a stick to shove down your throat." This Heero could deal with.

"Shut up. How did you know that thing?"

"Ha. Impressive. Let's go." Against his better judgement, the officer accepted the proffered hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. He wouldn't admit his legs were shaking, but he was having trouble standing up on his own. They made their way downstairs slowly, treated for all intents and purposes, as if they weren't there in the first place. Father Brutha waved them goodbye hesitantly, taking great care not to come any closer than necessary.

"See, this is how people deal with demonic possessions. They pretend nothing happened," the exorcist explained, swinging one leg over his bike.

"How can you pretend something like this never happened?"

"Denial and S.O.L., which stands for Sudden Onslaught of Logic. Reality is relative for the most part, see, so people get to choose which reality they intend to adhere to. And of course most people wouldn't notice a demon if it fell asleep in their porridge."

"Why could I see it then?"

"Because it showed itself."

"It showed itself." There was a heavy ounce of sarcasm in the officer's voice. Maxwell laughed.

"I promised I'll answer any question. But first things first. Hi, my name is Duo Maxwell," he said holding out his hand. Heero took it cautiously.

"Heero Yuy." He hesitated briefly. "I thought your name is David? Or is it another cover, like that collar?"

"This?" Duo removed the scrap of white from his neck. "I'm afraid it's no cover. As for the name, it's a long story. Better make a list of questions before you forget any. Oh, and I reserve the right not to answer anything personal or incriminating."

Heero barely heard anything past "no cover". "Are you trying to tell me that you actually are a priest?" he blurted, his voice scoring a low negative ten on the belief scale.

"Been ordained some three years ago, yes."

"As in, an actual priest?"

"Roman Catholic, that's true."

"Holy mass, baptisms, holy matrimony, celibacy the whole deal?"

"I never said I am a good priest, but- Let's just say that if I were to pronounce you man and wife, you'd need a trip to Vatican to get out of it."

"Shit."

"That's ten Hail Mary's, thank you very much." Head spinning, Heero settled himself behind Duo and clenched his eyes shut as the tires screeched their protest to the speedy U-turn. His immediate reality needed readjusting. Luckily, Father D. Maxwell was not a novice at this game, because soon the officer found himself in a cosy little diner with a cup of coffee and a plate of cookies in front of him.

"Better?"

"No. What is your actual name?" This won him another roll of the violet eyes.

"I swear, you have funny problems. But alright. I don't know what name is on my birth certificate – my earliest memories are of some run-down garage and Solo. Put two and two together, that's where 'Duo' came from. Later, I was taken into a church orphanage with the assumption I would become a priest. Father Maxwell adopted me when I was about eight."

"What about David?"

"I was named by a demon. It doesn't exactly bide well for a member of clergy."

"Solo is a demon?"

"Yes. Before you ask, some demons can stay here, if they wish. As long as they don't overstep the boundaries."

Heero fell silent. There was a million questions he wanted to ask, including (rather idiotically, all things considered), "are you single?"

"Yes, I am. Clergy, remember? Not that I have a flock to keep pretences in front of, but hey." The blue-eyed man had a distinct memory of not having asked. He was pretty damn sure he hadn't. "Which, I gather from your expression, brings us to the whole supernatural shit. I am not a mind reader, so no need to censor yourself. Mind reading is pretty much impossible. However if you think about something hard enough to concentrate only on that one thing, I can sort of see it, if I concentrate. It's mostly a vague idea rather than sharp image or exact words, but there you go. You look cute when you blush, you know?" Duo added as an afterthought. His smile gave way to something far more wistful very quickly. "It's tied in with seeing the supernatural. Humans in general aren't on the right frequency, but every once in a while a freak like me comes by."

"You open up pretty fast," Heero noted taking a bite of a cookie. "You weren't exactly friendly earlier."

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm a friendly person, by nature. You wouldn't believe how many people come and ask me to phone their dead cousin-thrice-removed to ask where he hid his golden teaspoon. Plus, now you're kind of in the club, having witnessed an exorcism. Which reminds me."

"I'm assuming there is a reason if Solo sent you to me for answers. Other than aggravating us both, I mean. My point is, Heero, seeing things is not something you can do on your days off. Either you learn a few things and keep them in mind forever, or you bow out now."

Heero looked him in the eye. Mental review of pros and cons could point out to one thing, really. While the latter included a possibly nasty death and an ungodly amount of gross stuff, the former reminded he didn't exactly have much to leave behind, his daytime job offered both readily and his adrenaline addiction would be pampered.

Plus, the exorcist was hot.

"I'm in."

"I'm flattered." Before Heero had a chance to blush again, Duo gulped his coffee down and stood up. "Come on then."

"Where?"

"To get some answers."

**TBC.**


	4. The Inner Freak

Author: Keiran  
Title: Hellfire 4/8  
Rating: 14  
Genre: Supernatural  
Pairings: 1+2+1, hints of others  
Warnings: mildly religious stuff.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following is strictly for entertainment purposes.  
Archive: Gundam Wing Diaries. For the record, I have an "Ask and you shall receive" policy.  
Notes: This is a fusion with the movie Constantine. Doesn't follow it closely, or at all really.

Thanks to the Amazing Shenlong Deb, for betaing!

Cookies for everyone who guess who the cameo character is!

xxx.XXX.xxx

Heero stared. Really, there was little else he could do. Duo sauntered to the gate of the most sophisticated private possession in the city, as if he owned the place. He waved at the bulky guard, grinning widely. Heero hoped he wouldn't be noticed if he followed, but no such luck. The guard thrust a card in his face, face down. The policeman looked at it and the guard questioningly.

"The Fool," Duo piped in, grabbing Heero's elbow. "He's with me."

"I have my orders, Mr Maxwell."

"Ahmed, please? I've been here what, every other night?"

The guard opened his mouth to respond and closed it swiftly, when his cell phone rang. He managed little more than his surname, before he motioned for the two to enter. Duo beamed and walked through the gate. Heero followed, marvelling at the surroundings. They had a couple hundreds of meters to go, before they reached the house. Building, at any rate. The garden, or rather the park, was largely left to fend for itself, apart from an occasional fountain and a bench.

"If you ask me, it's a bit too fancy for a club, but hey. I love the place to bits anyway."

"A club? It's a club?"

"Yeah. I mean, it is a private property, but Quatre converted it into a club for us freaks to hang out in."

"Quatre. Now you're trying to tell me you're on first-name basis with Quatre Winner?" That was probably the information most worthy of scepticism.

"He's a great guy. You'll see."

"And he's okay with you just bringing in random people to see him?" Duo gave him the 'duh' look.

"Who do you think called Ahmed to let you in?"

"Oh. What was the deal with the card, anyway?"

"I told you it's a club for freaks."

"That kind of freaks."

"What did you think?" To his utmost embarrassment, Heero blushed. "You sure have a dirty mind. And that was me guessing, not me reading what's on top of your mind."

"I wish you hadn't said that," the blue-eyed man muttered. "I hate remembering you can do that."

"No worries. I can only do it when I make an effort. I rarely bother, unless I'm playing poker to win."

"Remind me never to play against you." They passed the main door, following the gravel path to the east wing. Several steps down, an unremarkable door was opening to welcome them.

"Good afternoon, Mr Maxwell."

"Hey Rashid. How's it going?"

"Very well, thank you."

"I am rather surprised to see you here, guarding the door. Did you step on Quat's favourite tea cup again?" The giant man mumbled something under his breath. Duo patted his arm sympathetically. "There, there. It's not like he can expect people to pay attention to every cup he leaves lying around the place."

The small hall morphed into a staircase almost immediately. Now Heero could believe there was a club in there – he could hear the music pulsing through the stone floor, along with splashes of light appearing on the walls every once in a while.

"Let's mingle," Duo advised cheerfully, walking down with a bounce in his step. And then there was the club. Despite the warnings, the freaks looked a lot like normal people. In fact, if Duo hadn't told him it was a freak club, Heero might have considered hanging out in this place – the music suited his tastes and the dim lights soothed his eyes.

The lights, it seemed, designed to bring out the inner freak. Almost everyone's eyes glowed golden. Not just the irises, but the pupils. The detective in him couldn't help but stare.

"You okay?" Duo was one of the few people whose eyes were more or less normal, as long as vibrant violet is normal. It was tough to look away from those eyes during the daylight – in the creepy, basement lighting Heero found it to be damn near impossible. Not just the eyes really. Shadows danced across the exorcist's face, sharpening his youthful features into what Heero would expect, given what he'd seen today – a dangerous demon hunter.

"Yes," he answered finally. "I'm okay." A little out of my mind, he added to himself, but great.

"Good."

They walked through the club, stopping here and there so that Duo could chat with various friends, most of whom gave Heero the shivers. He probably should have expected anything here, but more than once he felt the ground beneath his feet sway dangerously. Freak show indeed.

Eventually they came to a stop in front of a table for five, already occupied by several people. As they approached, one of them stood up and left, nodding to Duo politely. Once more with the eyes, Heero thought. The stranger had dark, short hair and one vividly green eye. His right one was white. He was also, quite possibly, the poster boy for angst, judging by his expression.

"Hey guys. This is Heero Yuy," Duo introduced him to the remaining occupants. "Solo thought I need a sidekick and here he is."

"Pleased to meet you, Heero." The blond was, quite possibly, one of the creepiest people the detective had seen in the club so far. His eyes were wide and blue like the Caribbean sea. Together with the pale blond of his hair it gave him the appearance of a truly stereotypical angel, as corny as it seemed. "I'm Quatre Winner."

… definitely the creepiest.

"The stoneface is Trowa Barton, Quatre's bodyguard. And the other b-position, but let's not get into that." The first noticeable thing about Trowa, was his hair. Then came the green eyes and lack of expression, perfected by the best bodyguards around the globe. He nodded briefly in their direction by the way of greeting.

"Hello." Heero made an effort not to think of anything specific. He'd had his fill of mind reading today.

"They're not mind readers." So much for the efforts then. "I told you, mind reading is like trying to count the stripes on a bee in the midst of a swarm."

"What do you do then?"

"Quatre is a psychic and a bit of a clairvoyant on the side. Trowa is in the same boat as you, so to speak, that is a non-freak in this freaky world. But pleasantries aside. Guess who I met today?"

"Aside from Heero?"

"Samyaza."

"Samyaza? Where?"

"In a dying, teenage girl." Quatre's brows furrowed.

"This is bad news… Is this why you've come?"

"Like I'm not here every other day? But yes, partly at least. Something is brewing, something big," Duo said quietly. "Even the cops noticed. Which is why Heero is here."

"Let's go upstairs," Quatre suggested, finishing his drink. Upstairs proved to be a study commonly found in movies about obscenely rich people. They seated themselves on low chairs, ones that could easily be accused of being beanbags, in different apartments. If the rumours were true, the "obscenely rich" included the Winner family, but still, finding oneself in such a surrounding, being served tea by an elegant French maid… Heero was having a surreal night.

"As if the fact that Samyaza was there wasn't weird enough, he said something strange."

"Excuse me," Heero interrupted. "Why is this Samyaza thing so important?"

"I'll spare you the scholarly details," Quatre said, taking a sip. "Samyaza is a powerful Fallen Angel, used to be one of the Grigori, Watchers. In general, the higher the rank, the less likely they are to be found on our plane. According to some traditions, his sin was pride, which makes his appearance very unlikely."

"According to the right traditions, I'd say. He's an arrogant bastard, that's who he is. He thinks possessing a human is beneath his status. So is speaking with a human, come to think of it."

"Obviously not."

"He told me 'He' was coming soon," Duo said quietly. Quatre stared at him in alarm, but, as Heero noted, without surprise.

"So soon?"

"You don't seem surprised."

"No, I… I had a vision."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

"Who is coming?" Heero asked, vaguely irritated. He came here with questions to be answered, damn it. Quatre looked at him, a strange expression in his eyes.

"The Antichrist." The detective stared.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Sorry, but no. There's only one person the demons would anticipate, and that is the Antichrist. Didn't you watch the _Omen_?"

"What, another blockbuster Hollywood got right?"

"No, but the principle is sound. It took a considerable amount of effort to get them to make the new version though." There was a trace of smugness in Quatre's voice. "Not that I had a hand in making it, unfortunately."

"Quat is a bit of a movie fanatic," Duo explained, grinning.

"So, the Antichrist is coming, meaning the Apocalypse is just around the corner?" Heero asked impatiently.

"Broadly speaking, yes."

"Splendid."

"What about this vision?" Duo asked. Quatre's brows furrowed.

"It was pretty hazy, but what I know now, is that something will happen soon, can't tell you how soon exactly, but soon. And… I saw Heero."

"What?"

"I saw Heero killing the Antichrist," the blond finished quietly. The room fell into silence. Trowa laid a hand on Quatre's shoulder in a comforting gesture, while Heero and Duo stared, their eyes round as saucers.

There is only one phrase in the English language that could aptly describe their feelings in that precise moment, and that phrase was, "well, fuck."

**TBC.**


	5. The Obvious Choice

Author: Keiran  
Title: Hellfire 5/8  
Rating: 14  
Genre: Supernatural  
Pairings: 1+2+1, hints of others  
Warnings: mildly religious stuff.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following is strictly for entertainment purposes.  
Archive: Gundam Wing Diaries. For the record, I have an "Ask and you shall receive" policy.  
Notes: This is a fusion with the movie Constantine. Doesn't follow it closely, or at all really.

Thanks to the Amazing Shenlong Deb, for betaing!

xxx.XXX.xxx

Predictably, Heero was a little dazed for the rest of the evening. It didn't matter so terribly, not when the discussion moved on to the possible tools and methods of killing the Antichrist. Half the words Heero didn't know and the performance part required, among others, a holy relic, the pope and a marching band of priests, rabbis, pastors, monks and every other kind of a Higher Power-Mankind communication specialist.

"The thing I don't quite understand, is why Heero?" Duo asked eventually. "I mean, myself, I would understand. That's my job. You or Trowa, possibly. You're a psychic, Tro has all the necessary connections. Wufei would be a pretty obvious choice. But Heero? He's a random passer-by."

"I don't know," Quatre admitted, rubbing his brow. "At the moment, we have more pressing matters though. Like, for example finding the Antichrist."

"That I wouldn't worry about," Heero said finally, waving a hand in the air dismissively.

"Why not?"

"I'm willing to bet he'll be the first person I trip over on my way home."

"What makes you think so?"

"Just the way my day's been going so far."

"I really don't think it was quite that bad," Duo said, a very attractive pout decorating his features, attractive despite it being completely and utterly out of place. It took some skill, Heero reflected, to pull off a pout at the age of twenty eight and not look infantile.

"Let me think." Heero looked up and started counting down using his fingers as props. "It started with a bunch of escaped delinquents, one of whom sent me to the most antisocial man in existence who then proceeded to, in his own words, rape my logic and chase a demon of the powerful sort out of a teenage girl. And insists on reading my mind. Did I miss anything?"

"Myself, I believe," Quatre added dryly, while Trowa and Duo snickered into their cups.

"Apologies. So you see, I have a reason to suspect that the Antichrist is waiting for me just around the corner."

"When you put it like that…" Quatre smiled into his tea.

"We'd better arm you properly then," Duo said, getting up and stretching. "It's been great to see you, Quat, I hope that the next time you bother to invite me in for a chat won't be because the apocalypse is coming."

"I'll make an effort. I'll contact you, as soon as I find out anything new."

"Yeah, stay home and tune in to radio future, meanwhile me and Heero will go and drive my baby back to Howard's."

"Did you ever wonder what message you project, a priest on a bike like that?"

"Hot?"

"Among others, yes."

"So what's the problem?"

"Just me speaking on behalf of my more traditional sisters."

"Remind me real quick, the one that went to a convent which she was later thrown out of for smoking weed, the one whose religion of the week is Catholicism, the three Buddha sisters or some of the Muslims?"

"First two and one of the latter."

"I'll make a note of that. Let's go, Heero."

The policeman stood up and bowed out of habit. "Pleased to meet you."

"Don't be a stranger, Heero. I'll let people know that you're to be let in whenever you feel like visiting," Quatre said warmly.

"I thought this was a club for freaks?"

"If I'm correct, Duo'll be dragging you here anyway, with intents most of my sisters probably wouldn't approve of." Said priest went bright red. "And if I'm not correct, which I most certainly am, you'll want a place to mull over the upcoming Antichristicide."

"Thank you, Winner." Heero paused mid-blink and was dragged outside by his elbow, by the irate priest. "Quatre is a great guy, but he is psychic, and not afraid to use it to his advantage. Evil, scheming, son of a she-devil." The door they exited several seconds ago opened, and Trowa walked out.

"Quatre resents that remark about his mother," he said seriously.

"See? Evil, I tell you."

Somehow, against all logic known to man, Heero found the amount of freakiness if not familiar then at least acceptable. And impossibly endearing, he added silently, looking at the still talking exorcist.

"I hope you don't mind me planning the evening for you," Duo said jumping onto his motorcycle.

"It's acceptable." The violet-eyed man grinned.

"Great! We'll go to Howard's first and then I'll lend you something from my demon-killing arsenal."

"Holy water and a crucifix?" Duo grinned and winked.

"Better. And much more universal."

And then they were speeding through the bustling streets, Heero with his teeth clenched and Duo almost laughing in delight. At this speed the city really wasn't so big – in no time at all they arrived at the small garage.

"Hey Howie! I brought my baby back," Duo hollered, casually letting himself and the bike into the same room it occupied previously. "Howie?" Heero left his helmet on a shelf by the bike and followed the long braid further into the garage.

… where Solo and Howard were contemplating a chessboard through several glasses of wine.

"Why doesn't this surprise me?" Heero muttered to himself, noting the bottle on the table.

"Most people have a cow," Solo said with a grin, taking a long sip. The white rook moved across the chessboard, unaided by any visible force.

"Curious. Hey kid. How'd the meeting go?" Howard said, studying the board intently.

"Splendid. Quatre told me a bunch of interesting stuff, and Samyaza was absolutely charming."

"Yeah, he tends to be," Solo agreed, never looking up from the board. Howard nodded wisely. The black bishop took the last remaining pawn.

"So. You wouldn't happen to know where would I find the Antichrist?"

Both players looked up and blinked at him surprised. "Whatever you need the Antichrist for?"

"Oh, I don't know. Averting the apocalypse, maybe? But really, don't mind us." For once, Heero could hear the uncertainty and something akin to fear in Duo's voice. Funny as it seemed, the exorcist was just as out of his depth as he was – dealing with demons on a daily basis was tough, but acceptable. Dealing with the mother of all demons, out of the blue…

"Dear boy. You know we cannot interfere. At all," Solo said slowly. Heero squashed a sudden desire to arrest him where he stood. "If we help actively, we might lose the privilege of being here permanently."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry," Duo replied with a sigh. "See you later then. And… take care."

"Don't worry about us, kid. You keep yourself and police boy safe," Howard said seriously, looking up at last. "Now, scat. We have a game to play." Duo's eyes rolled.

"Always ready to chat with me, I see. Let's roll, Heero."

They walked the small distance to Duo's flat in silence, the exorcist obviously lost in thought. It was the kind of silence Heero often found himself craving – both parties busy within their own minds, but at the same time requiring the presence of the other to let the train of thought run smoothly. Duo was the first person in a long while to give him that.

If he actually paused to think about it, aside from the priesthood, which was, admittedly, a bit of a dampener, Duo was quite possibly the one person he wanted to keep. Never mind the creepy occupation, or the constant presence of the supernatural. Something about Duo was just like home.

"Well, I don't usually bring guys home after the first date, but here you go. Tea? Coffee? Percentage?"

"A beer would be great, thanks."

"Cool. My weapons closet is in the bedroom. The back wall has a small handle in the bottom left corner, to remove the fake wall."

"Fake wall and a weapons closet. Is there a reason I'm not asking for a permit yet?"

"I'm gorgeous?" Heero said nothing, leaving the hall to the sound of Duo's merry laughter. The bedroom was a surprise – a king-sized bed, few furniture and plenty of books, scattered about. Many of them in languages he could neither read nor identify. He left the volumes as they were, in favour of the closet. The fake wall indeed gave way easily. The content…

Well, the content would make anyone even remotely interested in weaponry stare in delight. Not so much in terms of quantity, but the quality made the officer in him squeal.

"You're enjoying my collection, I take it?"

"Where did you get this thing? It's an antique!" Reverently, the policeman took a pistol of the wall. It was obviously functional, and it a great shape. Heero couldn't tear his eyes off of it.

"I think you need to revise the level of surprise in your voice. I know all kinds of weird people, many of them older than steam engines. They tend to have strange shit laying about." Duo shrugged and handed the officer a beer.

"You don't say?" They were standing pretty close, Heero's eyes still focused on the gun, even as he sipped from the bottle.

"So. I think we're heading for a very awkward moment here," Duo said after a few minutes of silently staring at the display. Heero "hm"ed thoughtfully, putting the beer bottle down. He reached forward and gently removed the dog collar from the young priest's neck.

"Is this better?"

"Still rather awkward. You know what the church has to say about first dates."

"I'd imagine their views on the lack of females are a lot stronger."

"Point."

"Are you this bad a priest?"

"Yes."

Kissing Duo, Heero decided, was like kissing fire. Despite the vague taste of beer and hints of tea, Duo's mouth was hot and fascinating. He brought his hands up, gripping the long braid tightly. They had chemistry, oh, good heavens, did they ever. They had just about everything here and now, and the Antichrist could go and fuck himself with his Apocalypse, because neither of them would notice if the sky rained flaming sulphur at this very moment.

Lost in the feeling, Heero barely noticed when Duo's responses became less and less frequent, until they stopped entirely.

"Duo?"

The violet eyes opened slowly. Heero opened his mouth to ask the question everyone would ask in this situation, when he found himself flying across the room. He gasped for breath as he slid to the floor, bereft of oxygen when the impact forced all the air out of his lungs. Duo kneeled next to him, even though the detective knew he shouldn't have been able to walk across the room this fast.

"I'm very sorry, Heero. But I simply cannot let you kill me now," Duo said quietly, a strange lilt to his voice.

The last thing Heero remembered was the shrill ringing of the phone.

**TBC.**


	6. Just Super Demon Powers

Author: Keiran  
Title: Hellfire 6/8  
Rating: 14  
Genre: Supernatural  
Pairings: 1+2+1, hints of others  
Warnings: mildly religious stuff.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following is strictly for entertainment purposes.  
Archive: Gundam Wing Diaries. For the record, I have an "Ask and you shall receive" policy.  
Notes: This is a fusion with the movie Constantine. Doesn't follow it closely, or at all really.

Thanks to the Amazing Shenlong Deb, for betaing!

xxx.XXX.xxx

Just when did the world get so disjointed, Heero wondered. He couldn't move a muscle, but strangely, that was okay. He felt heavy, as if he was waking up from a very long alcohol-induced sleep, yet he could hear just fine. Someone was pounding on the door insistently, several someones by the sound of it, letting themselves in when all else failed.

"Heero!"

Quatre? Heero wanted to ask. How did you know where I live? Then he remembered, the slender blond was psychic. Must be rubbing off on me, he thought dazedly, this whole psychic thing. I wonder what will Duo say…

Wait.

"Duo!" The name escaped his mouth, followed by a coughing fit. The world returned to its proper shape.

"Easy. You'll be fine." An unfamiliar hand offered him a glass of water. "Drink slowly." The water slid down his throat, easing the cough. It helped him focus.

"What the fuck happened?" he rasped out. Silence answered him. He looked around, at the apologetic and concerned expressions Trowa and Quatre were wearing, and grim determination on the stranger's face.

"Duo happened, I'm afraid," the latter said. "Turns out we had the Antichrist under our very noses."

"What? No, that's not possible!" Duo? No way he was the Antichrist. "And who the hell are you?"

"This is Wufei Chang," Quatre said quietly. "He's a scholar. History of religions and occultism." The dark-haired man nodded curtly.

"Another freak?"

"Strictly speaking yes, another freak," Wufei answered a tad stiffly.

"What's this bullshit about Duo being the Antichrist again?" Heero's head was aching like he'd been hit with a mallet. Then he remembered – walls do tend to have that effect. "Shit. He threw me across the room."

"Without even touching you," Quatre supplemented. "Which would imply he's at least aware of what he is, at best. At worst, he's ready to get the End started. I had another vision, I'm afraid. Rather explicit," he added seeing Heero's round eyes. "Duo is one of my best friends, I like to keep tabs on him."

"Well, isn't this embarrassing," the officer muttered, rubbing his neck.

"Still, something is not right." Heero looked at Quatre again.

"You mean except Duo suddenly being the evil incarnate?"

"You're still alive," Trowa said bluntly.

"Oh, thank you very fucking much. I really wish I wasn't, at the moment."

"Heero, be reasonable for a second. Duo knows just about everything about my visions, and I told him today that you will kill the Antichrist."

"You're saying he should have killed me."

"Or have you possessed. Don't know why he didn't do that, actually, most demons would think it's a brilliant strategic move," Wufei wondered aloud, tapping his chin.

"That's a good question," Quatre picked up the thread. "Do you carry any amulets? Anything to prevent a possession?"

"Not that I know of."

"Did you ever participate in a ritual? Anything which could have attracted a supernatural force?" Heero opened his mouth to deny, but stopped himself. When Duo'd showed him the Hellfire earlier, something in his memory stirred.

"I was in a church during a fire once, when I was ten. I don't remember much, but I remember my shirt catching fire. I doused it with holy water. I think- I mean, now I'm pretty sure that was Hellfire." The two freaks looked at each other.

"That's one mystery solved. A lifetime of protection against possession and most supernatural influence," Wufei said. "Perfect balance."

"Usually a mark left by either holy water or Hellfire fades as soon as the contact is broken," Quatre hastened to explain to the other two. "But if someone is touched by both at the same time, they leave a combined, permanent mark. Which would mean that you, Heero, are immune to both demonic and angelic influences."

"Was that why Duo couldn't kill me?"

"No. Killing wouldn't be a problem."

"I feel better already," Heero muttered.

"And I can't think of a reason for him not to," the blond said softly. "I just doesn't make sense!"

"Does it mean he can still be brought back? Exorcised or something?"

"You cannot exorcise people," Wufei broke in, slightly irritated. "You exorcise demons out of people. The Antichrist is not a case of possession, he is fully human and fully demonic."

"I'm doing the math and coming up with some strange solutions here," Heero said frowning.

"It worked for Jesus, it's only just that it works for his counterpart too."

"Splendid." So Duo wasn't kidding when he mentioned the logic being ravaged viciously. "If he is the devil, or whatever, how come none of you noticed?" He glared at everyone accusingly.

"Don't look at me, I'm just a bodyguard," Trowa said.

"According to most sources, the Antichrist would have powers to hide his presence from everyone, even unconsciously, unless he chose to reveal it." Wufei might have looked like a martial artist, in his gi, or whatever it was called, Heero reflected, but he sure sounded like a scholar. Any minute and he'd start quoting references with page numbers. "That is mentioned or hinted at in several sources, including the first letter of St. John, chapter…" Right on cue.

"Spare me," the detective said sourly. "The way I see it, Antichrists should have some identifying features. Sociopathy, psychological disorders, manifested as cruelty to people or animals, communications issues-"

"It's not quite so simple, Heero. Human psychology doesn't necessarily apply to the supernatural," Quatre explained. "Even though I agree, there should be some indications, like…" He fell silent, his face paling.

"Like what?"

"Increase in the amount of possessions in the vicinity, both angelic and demonic. Natural phenomena," Wufei finished. "I can't say anything about the latter, but the former… I believe the expression is 'duh'."

"It's his job, searching for demons. He took it seriously," Trowa countered. "You have the Sight too, you should know both demons and angels are around a lot of the time. If that was the only indicator, you should be suspected too."

"Yes, but I wasn't brought up by a demon and an angel," Wufei said smugly. Heero wanted to hit him, for the "quod erat demonstrandum" tone, until his brain registered the words.

The room fell into silence.

"What?" Heero asked cautiously. He noticed that Trowa's expression seemed pretty surprised too.

"He didn't exactly go around announcing it," Quatre said. "But as far as I know, Solo found him somewhere on the streets, alone, when he was maybe three. I will never understand just why he took him in, but he did. After a while they came here, stayed with Howard, until Duo was eight. Then he went to Father Maxwell's orphanage."

"Oh." A brain cell sizzled. "You mentioned him being brought up by a demon and an angel…?"

"Solo and Howard, respectively." An image of a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, greying goatee and sunglasses did the cancan across Heero's mind. Suddenly Solo's earlier remark made sense.

"Oh."

"There is a story there, but I don't know the details, I'm afraid."

"I'm not sure I want to," Wufei muttered. "Good thing they let Duo go to an orphanage, they were hopeless at childrearing."

"No they weren't! He turned out okay."

"First of all, last time I checked, beer and wine is not what toddlers should be fed. Secondly, if by 'okay' you understand speaking seven languages, Latin, ancient Greek and Aramaic included, before learning how to read, I congratulate you."

"Excuse me," Heero felt obliged to speak up, "I don't mean to interrupt, but don't we have an apocalypse on our hands?"

"You think this is off-topic?" Trowa asked, helping the detective up. "You should see Duo and Wufei banter."

"I can imagine. What do we do now?"

"We have to stop the apocalypse, of course." Heero knew he should ask "how?", but he had that horrible feeling he already knew. "I know how you feel about it, but flaming sulphur raining from the sky is not exactly what humanity needs to be better folk." Heero shook his head. It's not like he wanted flaming sulphur particularly, hell no. Just…

"I know," he said instead. "I know." He straightened. "How do we find him?"

"Megiddo would be an obvious place to start," Wufei said with a shrug.

"As in Israel? How do we get to Israel in time?"

"He has to get there too, remember? He doesn't have that much of a head start."

"No, just super demon powers. Fucking brilliant."

"If you ask me," Quatre said visibly irritated, "I would start looking at Mirror Street. But please, don't let me interrupt. I only get remarkably accurate visions, of course."

Heero and Wufei looked at the blond, while Trowa placed a hand on his shoulder. There was a barely visible smirk on the bodyguard's face.

"That does make it easier," the black-haired man conceded eventually. Then he turned to Heero. "We haven't much time."

"I know," the policeman answered quietly, picking up the gun he was admiring earlier. The headache was still there, but it was dissipating, thanks to the sudden burst of adrenaline. "I know."

**TBC.**


	7. Devil Wears Armani

Author: Keiran  
Title: Hellfire 7/8  
Rating: 14  
Genre: Supernatural  
Pairings: 1+2+1, hints of others  
Warnings: mildly religious stuff.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following is strictly for entertainment purposes.  
Archive: Gundam Wing Diaries. For the record, I have an "Ask and you shall receive" policy.  
Notes: This is a fusion with the movie Constantine. Doesn't follow it closely, or at all really.

Thanks to the Amazing Shenlong Deb, for betaing!

xxx.XXX.xxx

Mirror Street was one of those places. A place people both loved and hated with a passion. Most, tourists in particular, got frustrated beyond belief just looking for it. These frustrations stemmed from a very simple fact: according to maps and official listings there was no such place. Its actual name was much more mundane and sensible, forgotten by everyone but the unhappy cartographers and travel guides.

The locals felt a bizarre mixture of love and hate for the posh street for the same reason tourists swarmed towards it: a while ago the owners of most buildings (mostly shopping centres), thought that an addition of mirrors out front would encourage the clientele. For some reason, they each had the idea at the very same time, which made travelling extremely difficult.

How easy was it, to navigate a straight path in-between infinity?

"I think Duo mentioned once that Solo thought it up," Quatre whispered to Trowa. He didn't dare to raise his voice. The street was devoid of anything even remotely resembling movement, adding to its already surreal feel. The air itself seemed to have stopped, filling the space with dead weight.

"It's somewhat disconcerting."

"I believe that was the idea. His choice in drinking buddies aside, Solo is still very much a demon."

Heero ignored the conversation behind his back. His feet carried him on their own, even if his head tried to slow them down. They couldn't have missed Duo.

Not the way he was standing in the middle, facing the grandest anterior on the street, not paying any attention to their approach.

"Oh god!" Quatre breathed suddenly. The remaining three looked at him in surprise.

"Wrong side, this time," Wufei put in dryly.

"Look at the mirrors!" Heero turned his head and stared. Duo had said a human couldn't see the supernatural unless the conditions were extreme or an entity of choice revealed itself. Apparently, all bets were off. Each mirror behind Duo's back was filled with the silhouettes of angels – beautiful, cold, warrior angels.

He feared to look at the other side.

"Heero," he heard Quatre whisper.

"What?" he bit back, though he knew just what the blond was thinking. End this now. Before all of these perfect soldiers walk out of the mirrors and turn the Earth into a battlefield.

"Nothing. You have to…"

"I know," he said. His grip on the gun was steady. Years of training served him well – no matter what the emotional state, he could split a playing card on the shooting range. Dimly he noted that this would make a very effective exercise, shooting one's crush between the eyes. Unpopular one, but useful when picking the men for hopeless jobs.

Duo took no notice of his approach, it seemed, until the muzzle of the gun nearly nudged his forehead. It was only then that he raised his eyes.

"Heero," he said warmly. The officer did his best to ignore the enchanting violet eyes. He looked away, at the angels, trying to get his finger to pull the trigger. It was a lot harder than he expected.

Behind him, Quatre and Wufei were hissing expectantly, obviously as puzzled as he was by Duo's flippant attitude to the gun trained on his forehead. Don't think of Duo, Heero reminded himself, fixing his stare on the mirror behind the black-clad man. Think of how much you hate the flaming sulphur.

"Are you going to kill me, Heero?" Duo asked suddenly, just as Heero's eyes were inevitably drawn to their reflection.

Only… There was no Duo in the mirror.

Heero could see the legions of angels, their pale-haired leader, himself, with a gun pointed straight ahead, at the figure which must have been the Antichrist, as impossible as it seemed, but which lacked the coppery braid or black leather. He took a step back.

"Are you going to kill me again?" Duo asked, his lips forming a childish pout.

Heero's hands shook.

"Isn't that your pet ghost?" he heard Quatre ask incredulously. It took a great effort for Heero to turn around. Even more so, to look at the reflection of that adorable pout, framed by reddish hair and butterfly hairpins.

"My what?" he asked weakly, grateful to have something to divert his attention.

"When you visited today there was a spirit hovering about you, but it was gone when we got to you later. I'm sure it's the same girl I saw then," Quatre explained, his voice losing volume steadily. "Is anyone thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I killed her. Five years ago in a hostage raid," Heero said ignoring the blond clairvoyant. His grip on the handle of the gun tightened to the point of pain.

If possible, the silence got even more quiet. It was as if the whole world held its breath.

"Wait. Are you trying to tell me Heero had already killed the Antichrist? Without anyone noticing?" Wufei asked, his voice filled with disbelief so strong, it was already a denial. Quatre bristled at the jibe.

"I'm a psychic, not a TV!"

"Are you trying to tell me the Antichrist wears ruffles?" Trowa marvelled instead. Heero found a bit of comfort in the fact that the bodyguard, although a lot more used to the freaky side of life, was just as astounded by the spectacle as he was. It made him feel a bit better at first.

And then a lot better.

"You're saying Duo is not the Antichrist?" he asked almost breathlessly, but not quite. He would never allow his voice to acquire the breathless tone. "He can be saved?"

"Even if he isn't, that doesn't mean he's safe," Wufei said with a shake of his head. "Duo is too good to just let himself be possessed, even by the Antichrist him- herself," he corrected quickly, miffed by the concept. "He had to agree."

"Don't be an idiot! He would never agree!"

"He had," they heard Duo's voice admit Duo's voluntary participation. "I needed a body, I couldn't do much as a ghost." The little girl in the mirror straightened the pristine white ruffles on her skirt. Her face had the patented expression every adorable child around the globe quickly learns to use to its advantage: "I'm the ultimate incarnation of cute and I know you cannot resist me."

"You have to kill him, Heero," Wufei said, his voice steady but underlined with tremors. "However it happened, Duo is the Antichrist now."

"I can't! Duo is not the Antichrist, I can't kill an innocent person!"

"You didn't seem to have a problem with that girl in the first place."

"It was a fucking accident, alright? I miscalculated!"

"Aim for the mirrors then, and miscalculate again," Wufei hissed.

"I will not shoot Duo, you asshole!" Heero almost yelled in the other's face.

"What do you want to shoot me with?" The voice was honestly puzzled. Both man looked at the mischievous look in Duo's wide eyes and then down, at the gun Heero was still gripping. Or what used to be the gun.

"What the fuck!" Heero was now holding a very bewildered stuffed puppy. He dropped it with another curse. Duo giggled. If there was any doubt about the Antichrist's gender and mental age, it faded in the face of the giggles. The officer glared around, helplessly.

"That's my girl," a proud voice declared all of sudden. The four men turned to look at the mirror Duo was facing. To Heero's surprise, the armies of Hell turned out to be not so different from the armies of Heaven. Truthfully, he'd have a hard time telling one from the other.

So, he really shouldn't be surprised that the Morningstar looked like an attractive, ginger-haired man in his early thirties. Hooves and tails were a thing of the past apparently; the Devil wore Armani this season. Somehow, Heero felt oddly comforted by the presence of forked eyebrows. Tradition was important, people often said.

Of course, the tradition took a serious blow when Lucifer took a sip of what looked like a Martini, and placed his hand on the little girl's head. He gave the men on the other side a winsome grin, focusing on Heero. The detective stared back, surprised.

"It is time, darling," the devil said. Out on Mirror Street, Duo walked to the wall and placed his palms against the glass. Even though he was a lot taller than the girl, their palms met without losing the mirror effect. "Open the gates."

**TBC.**


	8. Chocolate and Ice Cream

Author: Keiran  
Title: Hellfire 8/8  
Rating: 14  
Genre: Supernatural  
Pairings: 1+2+1, hints of others  
Warnings: mildly religious stuff.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following is strictly for entertainment purposes.  
Archive: Gundam Wing Diaries. For the record, I have an "Ask and you shall receive" policy.  
Notes: This is a fusion with the movie Constantine. Doesn't follow it closely, or at all really. Also heavily inspired by Good Omens.

Also: Zechs is in here. Look closely. ;)

Thanks to the Amazing Shenlong Deb, for betaing!

xxx.XXX.xxx

"We're fucked."

"Thank you, Quatre, I wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for your apt summary," Heero replied over his shoulder. Duo stood unmoving, a perfect mirror image of the girl on the other side, whatever the earthly optics would have to say about it.

"Open the gates," Lucifer said again. He was wearing a very self-satisfied expression as he watched his daughter, though there was a smudge of tension visible only to the trained eye. Heero, with his substandard people skills, took no notice.

Somewhere high above a window shattered under frantic blows. The detective's head snapped in the direction of the emerging mist, which heralded the appearance of the first demon. The smoke thickened, forming a winged body, which dove towards the ground with a screech. Down on the street, Trowa stepped in front of his charge.

"Looks like we are in the way," he said quietly. The demon's feet touched the ground, its feathery wings unfurling. It wasn't pausing to survey the situation, but charging at them, too fast for any of the men to take action. And then a shot shook the otherwise silent street. The demon dissipated mid-lunge.

The window it exited, Heero noted in shock, had already mended itself, like it'd never been broken.

"I don't want to…" the voice was so quiet they could barely hear it, and yet somehow it echoed along the street, bouncing off the glass walls until it rang in every ear available. Duo's hand dropped the priest's most prized weapon to the ground and returned to the glass.

"Excuse me?" An expression other than a smirk appeared on Lucifer's face.

"I don't want to. I don't want this world to end," said Duo, the Antichrist by possession, firmly. The men chanced a glance around. Most of the demons were watching in stunned disbelief, mouths agape. The angelic faces matched the demonic to a tee.

"Woe is us," Lucifer sighed, sipping his drink, like a true thespian whose rendition of Hamlet just got hit smack on the face with a blueberry cake.

On the other side, the pale-haired angel in command hid a smirk behind his flaming sword.

"Look!" Wufei hissed, pointing up. Heero followed his gaze. The mirrors were dimming, one by one, the crisp figures melting away. Both armies looked around frantically, some screaming in denial, some attacking the glass. Their efforts were all in vain, however – cracked mirrors dimmed faster than the others. Within minutes the windows were dark and empty, save for the Devil, the Antichrist and the Voice of God.

"I'm afraid we must declare a temporary truce," Metatron volunteered after a long staring contest. Lucifer nodded, his lips – as usual – curved in a superior smirk.

"It would be wise, I believe. We shall wait until we can be sure our victory is absolute," he offered. Heero watched and the only thought running through his mind was Duo's statement about logic. Here was the Devil and the angel in command, discussing the averted apocalypse as if it was a leisurely chess match. In the mafia world someone would have already had his or her brain splattered on a wall.

Apparently he needed to get out more.

Duo's palms were still flat against the glass. Behind the little girl, the silhouette of the Morningstar started to fade away. "We shall have a talk, young lady, when you get back home," he said sternly. The girl's brows furrowed, but her lips didn't lose the determined set. Lucifer looked up suddenly, straight into Heero's eyes. "We shall have a long talk."

Heero almost choked. He whirled in place and stared at the dimming figure of the Voice. Now he knew he hadn't imagined what just happened – Metatron's icy blue eyes also did what could only be described as a wink and disappeared, along with the rest of him.

"Holy fuck," he muttered. "Holy fucking hell."

"What?"

"These two, I've seen them before! They were the terrorists who took that girl hostage." Silence and three incredulous stares answered him.

"Excuse me," Wufei raised a hand. "Let me get this straight. You think it was Lucifer Morningstar, lord of Hell, and Metatron, the Voice of God, who personally descended to our plane of existence to orchestrate the death of Antichrist's human incarnation?"

"No, I'm just saying I've seen the face of the man who pulled that girl in the bullet's path, and that most certainly was him," Heero answered irately. His tore his gaze away from the windows and to the adorable tiny Antichrist, who was staring up ahead with a worried expression on her chubby face.

"Do I have to go back now?" she asked timidly. "I don't want to go back. I like it here. There's no chocolate back home." The four men watched her warily. There was no telling whether she wouldn't change her mind, but she apparently anticipated the doubt. "There would be no more chocolate and ice cream or TV or anything when the battle would start," she said sadly, her voice a strange mixture of Duo's smooth tenor and child-like chirping.

"I don't think TV is a sufficient reason for this world to go on," Heero muttered darkly. Devil issue aside, his job was not child-friendly. He had killed people, people who deserved death, mostly by granting it to other people, who hadn't. He couldn't imagine just what made her think there was anything in the world worth preserving, after spending these past five years haunting him.

"Chocolate and ice cream, however…" Quatre wondered, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"That's what my parents used to say, you know," she said shrugging. "So I thought it really would be good to end the world. But then you killed me and you didn't think so," she said to Heero. "You thought it wasn't so bad." Her eyes were watching something far away, possibly a long time ago.

"Is anyone noticing the dastardly clever plan, or is it just me?" Trowa whispered, watching the little Antichrist with horrified fascination. It'd take a diabolical mind to send a child with the power to end the world to follow a cynical homicide cop around for years. Then again, it'd take a miracle to find the one who still thought the world was worth saving.

"Excuse me, details aside, I appreciate you not ending the world, little girl, but do you think I- we could maybe get Duo back?" Heero asked, shaking the clever plan to not end the world and assorted issues out of his head, and focusing on things that were truly important.

She pouted. "I like Duo."

"Yeah, so do we." She sighed again.

"I suppose, I promised." Without further ado, Duo collapsed onto his knees, gasping for air. Inhumanly quick, his hand snatched the gun laying not so far away and pointed it at the Antichrist.

"Bye kid," Duo said, grinning. The bullet hit the mirror between the girl's eyes, sending splinters of glass everywhere. For a second before it broke, they could see a sunny smile and then…

The glass tinkled against the concrete, and it was silvery pieces of a mirror again, not the surface of darkness it was just moments before. The windows all along the street returned to their proper state, all undamaged, save for one.

The remaining pieces reflected Duo, kneeling on the ground, gun slipping from his fingers.

"Duo!" Heero rushed to his side, holding him up. Duo batted his hands away, crawled to the nearest drain and vomited.

"Fuck," he spit. "My head is killing me."

"What a way to ruin the moment," Heero muttered.

"Well, excuse me, for being nauseous. Next time, you get possessed and I'll watch, how's that for a party?" the exorcist snapped.

"Well, excuse me for worrying, you asshole! You could have said something!"

"When exactly? And what would you wanted me to say? 'Hey Heero, excuse me for a moment, I'll just go and play Antichrist for a while, but don't worry I'll be back in time for tea'?"

"Guys…" Quatre started gently.

"And what, throwing me across the room was better, in your opinion?"

"Guys?"

"I didn't do that!"

"Sure, blame it on the Antichrist! You could have at least warned me!"

"Guys!" Quatre, Heero noted, should never, ever be annoyed. The forces of Heaven and Hell combined paled in the face of Quatre Winner's wrath. "Unresolved sexual tension aside, the traffic is going to commence any minute. I think we'd all rather be sipping wine rather than answering uncomfortable questions."

Duo stared at his friend and laughed quietly. "Right." He got to his feet, leaning on Heero gratefully. "Let me just brush my teeth, and we'll see about restoring the moment, shall we?" he asked, brushing a finger across Heero's lips. His own curved into a sunny smile. The policeman couldn't help but smile back.

In the end, that was all there was to it. The world was enriched by several happier lawyers, a disgruntled insurance company and a group of very puzzled city guards, whose infallible cameras failed to record the person responsible for breaking one of the most prominent windows on Mirror Street. And if sometimes a café owner would find that a few of his spoons had mysteriously corroded while old plants suddenly bloomed, he took no notice of two tall men in expensive suits, who sipped coffee and indulgently watched a little girl in a ruffled dress, as she eagerly consumed a bowl of sweets.

There still was, after all, chocolate. And ice cream.

**THE END.**


End file.
